~BHM, ~FFA - John Hawkins settles in for a night of lonely drinking as usual but tonight may not be just any other night.

[AUTHORS NOTE: This is my first story here on DIMS so please be kind and I apologise if there are any errors. The characters and locations in this story are totally fictional.]

The Dancer and The DetectiveBy Rellis10

The night air was thick with darkness and the stench of alcohol. Torrents of rain did nothing to wash the smell away in this part of town, it was engrained into the asphalt itself. This was the kind of night the seedy part of the city loved, with all the shadow and grime rising to the top. Faces appeared and disappeared with ease in the gloom, making it perfect for all manner of sordid activities to occur.

It was this type of night that veteran police detective John Hawkins would have loved twenty years ago. He would have been quite at home trawling the bars and cleaning house when he was still on the streets. Now, though, he had other things on his mind such as a bottle of whiskey in one particular bar he preferred to frequent. In the intervening years he had let himself go, having been a stocky figure before he was now a hefty 300lbs after being stuck behind a desk shoveling paperwork and donuts.

Now, instead of chasing crooks, John chased leads on cases that tested his mental and not physical agility. On his free evenings he spent his time chasing any alcoholic beverage he could find to take his mind off things. One divorce, no kids and a body that wasn’t getting any younger had begun to catch up to the 43 year old, although he was by no means an unattractive man beneath his excessive size.

Stomping through the puddles on this rainy night in mid November, John was huddled inside a brown canvas trench coat that made him look even more intimidating than his large size already did. His short dark brown hair was drenched and the excess water ran off down the ripples of his face. Every drop of water felt like an anvil pushing him into the ground tonight, an unneeded weight upon broad, tired shoulders. John glanced up and recognised these grimy streets of Bison Harbour, it was downtown and in an area known for it’s abundance of sleazy bars. Just one more right turn and he’d be at his favourite.

The sidewalk poked above the growing pools of rainwater as John’s scuffed leather work shoes clicked a slow and steady beat. By now he could hear the melodic tones of slow music coming from around the next corner and see the faint glow of a vulgar pink neon sign. The glow came from a narrow alley that was marked only by a makeshift sign that read ‘Georgie’s Saloon’ in half eroded type. Each step brought him further along the brick wall by his side and eventually to the corner where he turned and stared up again from the gloom.

Down the dingy back alley were the pink neon sign and a door guarded by two heavies. The even larger detective barely flinched at the sight he was now accustomed to and walked forward into their line of sight. His heavy footsteps sent water splashing up over his trouser legs but he carried on regardless. Sending a brief look at the neon signboard, John noticed it said ‘Hard Liquor and Live Entertainment’. Live Entertainment in this part of town meant only one thing, a pole and something to dance around it.

As he approached the couple of brutes on the door, dressed entirely in black, John watched eagerly for a sign that said he was allowed into the establishment. The first man, bald and wearing sunglasses at night, finally began to pay attention to the 300lbs man approaching him and immediately showed an expression of familiarity. John was a regular at the bar by now and the bouncers were used to seeing him around this time. The man gave a nod of approval toward John who gave an identical one back and pushed through the rickety wooden door into Georgie’s Saloon.

The bar was packed tonight, full of louts with loud mouths and thick wallets. As the night wore on the mouths would get louder and the wallets lighter, John knew, and he resigned himself to another night to headachy drinking. There were a couple of seats free at the bar courtesy of the younger customers’ tendency to move toward the sheltered booths around the walls. John shuffled forward while shaking the excess water off his coat, careful to avoid the crowd of people.

As John attempted to make his way to the bar he noticed the music was a slow and sensual rhythm, this meant only one thing: some young lady was stood upon a stage to John’s right grinding herself against a pole. This, however, was none of John’s concern at this moment and he continued toward his targeted barstool. His route took him close to a standing cohort of young business types and as he passed several of them saw him and stared. It was as though they were thinking ”Who is this fat lump invading our space?” but this look was short lived as John stared back with all the thunder his immense form commanded.

His walk was powerful and yet stunted by his tiredness. The bar stool was now only a few feet ahead and beckoning him. In just a few steps John had reached the seat and landed his large posterior on the tough burgundy leatherette. As he settled into his seat John scanned the bar and the assembled characters there. Young and old were there, some regulars who John had seen on his many visits; mostly the older types drinking as he did, to pass the time.

Behind the bar was the patron of this establishment, Georgie. He was a man of around 60, short grey hair at the sides of his head with nothing in the middle and a gaunt look. His slim form ambled across the bar and placed a glass of red wine and a scotch in front of a stylish looking couple before turning back to the centre. It was then that his attention was caught by a new customer. He attended to the request of this man as John shuffled in his seat until he found comfort.

“Georgie!” John shouted over the music in the background to the barman who was just serving a bottle of chilled Bud to another customer. The disheveled looking barman shuffled across the bar toward John and leant in close to hear his order. “I’ll take a Jack Daniels.”

Duly, Georgie the Barman turned to the plethora of drinks behind him and grabbed a bottle of amber liquid marked with the name ‘Jack Daniels’ and then a small glass. Turning back to the sullen figure slumped on the barstool, the barman placed the glass on the bar and poured the liquor smoothly until it reached an adequate level. He slid the glass forward to his customer and was about to move off to serve another when he was stopped dead by John’s voice.

“Leave the bottle.” John’s face didn’t lie, it said he wanted the whole bottle as clearly as his words did. Georgie knew this customer well enough to know a night on the sauce was the aftershock of a rough week. His face showed it, his voice showed it, the squeaking of the leatherette topped barstool under John’s rotund and fatigued buttocks showed it too. John placed a handful of notes down on the bar to pay for his bottle of Jack Daniels and watched as the barman impulsively took them.

“Tough time with work, John?” The barman refrained, only half expecting a response that he didn’t get. Instead John merely twisted his neck while simultaneously extending his hand toward the glass. Georgie gave a sneaky tut to himself and went back to minding his own business for the moment.

Grabbing the glass in his left hand, John lifted it to his parched lips and took a sip. The smooth whiskey swilled around his educated mouth for an all too brief moment before he tipped his head back and swallowed. It would be the first drink of what he hoped was many that night.

As his head twisted to view his surroundings, John’s stomach followed it, sloshing to the side and ruffling his rain spattered trench coat. In response John placed the glass of liquor down and spread out his arms to remove the coat. Underneath the coat was a cheap but loyal charcoal pinstripe suit complete with a faded red tie that John loosened instinctively along with the top button of his off-white shirt. This revealed his double chin properly, poking out below his jaw like a cushion to rest his head on.

Suddenly everything went silent for a moment as the music ceased in the background. There was a small amount of commotion around the entertainment area as the sultry dancer removed herself from the pole and exited the elevated stage, the punters clearly unhappy to see her leave. After taking a brief glance around, John took another sip of Jack Daniels and settled back into his routine. Such an event was nothing special in this place, dancers changed places like glasses from the hands of drunkards.

A couple of minutes passed, nothing caught John’s eye other than the glint of amber in his glass. After a refill from the bottle he was ready to hunker down and settle in for a night on the sauce. He already felt the effect of the drink he’d knocked down, the warming of his insides making a pleasant lift to his somber mood.

This time of silent drinking passed until the music finally returned, with a slow melancholy ballad drifting through the air. The sultry tones caught John’s attention but only because it signaled the arrival of another dancer to the stage, something he wasn’t particularly interested in. The entrance of said dancer was announced shortly by a host of adolescent wolf-whistles and cheers, and then by the morose voice of Georgie the bartender.

“New girl…Been on twice tonight already…” Georgie spoke in the direction of John who looked up from his drink at the realisation he was being talked to. “…how’d you like her?”

John’s expression didn’t change one iota; it kept the same glum appearance it had since he entered the bar. “I really don’t care Georgie. I come here to drink, not to eyeball the broads you picked up from wherever the hell you get them from.”

“Suit yourself, but this one’s a real piece of something…if you know what I mean.” Looking down from the other side of the bar Georgie’s expression seemed to have turned rather lecherous and leery. To John he was an old letch who talked about things he could no longer do, or people he could no longer have. Knowing this, John wanted nothing else to do with his philandering words.

“Georgie, I don’t want to know what you mean. Like I said, I’m here to drink.” The barman heard these words from John and gave a look as if he didn’t care. He had the man’s money, what he did with his time now was his own business. As Georgie turned to mind his bar again, John took a sip from his newly refilled glass and stared straight forward through his bottle.

By now the act on stage was heating up considerably, the crowd of men leaping around like dogs in heat. On stage was Felicity Hall, a dancer gently twisting around a long silver pole. Her long legs, faultless and flexible, wrapped themselves around the chromed shaft to suggest to the watching men “Just imagine how I could wrap them around you.” Her body was tightly held by a luscious deep red Satin dress that stopped just after her hips. Underneath this she wore a similarly coloured pair of slim hot pants, to halt any prying eyes short of anything inappropriate. Finally her feet were hugged close by a pair of black suede boots that came up just short of the knee.

There were cat calls and whistles aplenty that somehow reached high above the blue tones of the music. Felicity drove these hormone-driven men wild wherever she went. She could have been anywhere, dressed in anything, but the looks she got were always the same; lustful and unwholesome. Every man she had ever met wanted to use her for nothing other than a quick lay and at this time in her life it drove her mad. But, she felt, it was the only thing she had going for her.

Her long flowing chestnut coloured hair cascaded over her back like water over a perfectly smooth river bed. Green as emeralds her eyes shone through the intense light of the stage but the faked sensuality on her face did not. She knew long before now that they didn’t care about her emotions, or even how she showed them; these people only wanted her body.

Dancing along to the slow beat of the music, she let her mind wander as it had done many times before. This wasn’t her first job dancing in a dead-end bar. Nor, she suspected, would it be her last. She had a firm grasp of the skills needed to thrill the mob around the stage and now it had become automatic, even easy. So her mind distanced itself and became occupied with thought.

She could only think about the events that brought her into this place. Her life making ends meet that meant she would take any work she was offered. Answering the frequent call for dancers in a bar looking to rile up their male customers was a staple income. But things happened, bars closed, people changed and Felicity invariably found herself looking for another job sooner or later. This time it was Georgie’s Saloon in Bison Harbour.

Felicity rejected the pole now and walked out in front of it, getting as close to the baying mob as she dared. Her hips, slowly but smoothly, swayed from one side to the other. Running her hands through her hair she let it drape over her shoulders in a random but completely sensual manner. Then she lowered herself, crouching to be at head height with the men who desired her.

They could almost touch her, almost but not quite. She knelt there, just out of arms reach, her deep red satin dress shimmering in the concentrated light from above. But her eyes were not on these men right in front of her, but in fact they had drifted toward the bar and one man in particular.

She had never been able to truly admit it to anybody, maybe not even herself truthfully, but her eyes were always drawn by men who were not conventionally good looking. Instead they were caught by the larger men, figures who nobody would have guessed she would rather be with if they saw her in the street. She was, after all, utterly beautiful, what would people think if she were to become involved with a man as large as she often desired?

She’d had relationships before with men who bore boyish good looks and rugged handsome featured but inevitably they had crumbled as even they couldn’t fulfill her desires. She wanted a man that could hold her close and protect her, a man who looked as if he could stand against mountains to defend her. More than that she wanted the converse, a cushion to hold and love her in the tenderest ways. She wanted a man, a real one, not the scrawny pretty-boys that followed her like lost puppies and wannabe playboys. And looking at the bar she thought she might have found one.

John sat there sipping on his Jack Daniels and blissfully unaware the eyes of a stunning brunette were aimed squarely at his back. The warm liquor passed down his throat and into his ample belly and almost subconsciously he turned his head toward the stage. It took a few moments, through the disorganised rabble, but they shone through; two gleaming emerald eyes staring straight into his own.

Surely she was looking at somebody else, somebody behind him he thought. Did he dare look behind him in case he turned back to find her lustrous glare gone? In sheer disbelief that it was him this stunning beauty was staring at, John couldn’t resist turning around and glancing at everybody to see if their eyes were locked on the woman’s. Every face drew a blank, even if they were looking toward the women they were far too interested the dancing to notice her eyes. Not one person seemed as if they were reciprocating the intense gaze of the dancer.

Cautiously John turned his thick, commanding body back toward the stage. He didn’t want to get his hopes up that this woman had been staring at him in that fixated way. If he did he was sure it would be just another disappointment in a long line of let downs and delusions.

As he rotated his broad shoulders in the direction of his hopeful admirer John blinked, and as he opened his eyes again he saw the emerald eyes centred solely on his face once again. This time he knew where to look and spotted them immediately, locked on his features, studying him from a distance. Even as she stood up from her crouched position and moved around the stage to suit all her would-be suitors, her eyes were set on John in an unending trance.

What was she staring at him for? Many people glanced at him as he walked down the street. It was a natural response to somebody so large and imposing that a passer-by would take a second look. Maybe she wanted to poke fun at the fat man sat drinking alone. The myriad thoughts ran through John’s head, the most positive of which being blind chance she had chosen his face to look upon in a moment of boredom. Still their eyes connected as John’s hand grasped the glass of Jack Daniels but dared not take a drink.

Felicity gyrated her hips again and wrapped her hands around the pole, keeping her eyes fixed on the mysterious man at the bar. He was alone, his hand clasped around a glass with a bottle nearby but not drinking. Why? Why wasn’t he drinking, she asked herself? She scanned him up and down as much as she could, his portly body packed tight into a suit part of her mind would much rather he removed. As her eyes moved upward she finally noticed his eyes, even with the distance she could tell the hazel hue because his eyes were staring straight back at her.

“He’s staring straight at me” she told herself in a sudden realisation of exactly why this man hadn’t lifted his drink since she’d begun looking at him. Not only was he looking at her, but he was precisely meeting her gaze, his eyes locked on her own. Felicity’s instincts told her to drag her eyes away and finish her dance, but something deep inside kept her eyes steady. The feeling was something she had very rarely felt before. It was something she had grown to dread as she knew this feeling was so difficult to confront. That feeling was desire.

Nothing could pull her eyes away from him as her body contorted in unison with the chrome shaft. The crowd around her was still as rowdy as they had been all night but to Felicity there was only silence and this man’s body and face. His expression seemed one of disbelief, but behind it a taint of sadness and weariness. Perhaps the sadness came from drinking alone without a friend or partner, the weariness from delving into his job to distract himself from the loneliness. She could only guess, but she saw the depth of feeling in his hazel eyes and wanted to know more. She wanted to get closer to this man even more than she dared admit to herself.

John’s eyes hadn’t left the woman’s for well over a minute but it had felt like hours. He’d gotten lost in her beauty no matter why she was looking at him. The look on her face could easily be lust and sensuality yet this was what he would expect from a decent dancer. He was now almost certain she had merely picked his face from the distance as a way of occupying herself and that he was fooling himself that the glance meant anything more. For now he reveled in the fact she had chosen to look in his direction, but knew once the music stopped her eyes would be gone.

Felicity, knowing she was now enacting the last portion of her routine, wished the music would never end. Once she exited the stage this man, whoever he was, may be gone and her desire gone with him. She dared divert her gaze for a single moment, she was too entranced by his obese yet wonderful form. His legs looked so wide and cushioned, she imagined she could sit in his soft lap for hours. His arms looked so thick and warm he could wrap them around her and she would feel protected from anything. She was utterly certain his whole body would be a perfect pillow to rest on when the weight of the world got too much.

Suddenly the song began to fade out, the final few seconds of her routine culminating in a flick back of the head and her silky chestnut hair floating through the air until coming to a rest on her back. The crowd responded with another round of wolf whistles and aroused cheers as Felicity looked straight past them toward her idol. He sat there with his eyes on her as they had been for a while but once the music had died they returned to his glass.

Still the dancer could not take her eyes of him but knew she had to exit the stage. Reluctantly she moved toward the rear of the stage where a door led to a back room where she and another dancer prepared. She kept her eyes on this unknown man’s immense, succulent body as long as she could but then relented and passed through the door. Her last thought was that he would still be there when she passed by on her way out of the bar.

Sitting at the bar, John took another swig of the Jack Daniels and closed his eyes briefly. The Jade hued irises of the dancer were emblazoned on the inside of his eyelids. He thought to himself that she had just been picking the most boring face in the crowd to keep herself tamed under the pressure of the stage lights, but there was something he couldn’t quite shake about that gaze. Nobody had looked at him like that in years it seemed, not since his ex-wife who gladly shot him out of the door when their relationship turned sour several years earlier.

They had started off as sweethearts, she adored him and his muscular, almost athletic body. For a while they lived in bliss until John’s attention turned to his job and climbing the ladder. While he was an officer he had been a model husband but John had set his eyes on becoming a Detective and soon he spent more and more time chasing his promotion. The time took its toll but John’s wife understood, and it all seemed to be worth it when the promotion finally came. However John still kept up the extra hours of work and the time behind a desk had an effect on his vaguely athletic figure.

”Too many hours, too many donuts” John quipped silently to himself as he sipped another mouthful of amber liquid. His belly had grown, his wife’s patience had not. John was no longer the man she had known many years before and it seemed he no longer had time for her. The time for reconciliation came and went and with it went the marriage and a pile of divorce papers. John had nothing to fall back on but his job and a growing reliance on Jack Daniels.

Since then nobody had given him a second look except for intimidation value. His body was gone and replaced by a flabby hulk of flesh, and he knew people no longer considered him sexy or anything remotely desirable. This fact he accepted with the help of alcohol, with drink he didn’t feel quite so lonely.

Yet now he had experienced the eyes of this Goddess upon him in the same way he had once known those many years previous. He wanted to brush it off as a mere nothing but the look lingered in his mind. Was it just that he was intoxicated, not by the drink but the slightest hint of being wanted? Hell, why not the drink itself? Or maybe he believed somewhere deep down there was still a remote possibility the lustful, covetous gaze was genuine.

Whatever the cause of this lingering feeling, John couldn’t shake it and it bothered him. He’d shook off far more in the past in his job. As an Officer he’d seen things nobody would want to see but shrugged it off as part of the job, images that should have stuck in his mind evaporated into thin air. This one stayed firmly embedded in his mind. Two stunning emerald eyes, focused on him, wanting him. He took another drink and stared back into the glass in reflection.

Several minutes after leaving the stage, Felicity poked her head around a door not far from the bar. Her luscious outfit had been replaced by a pair of faded jeans, a plain black t-shirt and a denim jacket though her stunning beauty was still present. There was no protection from the rain outside, her plan was a dash to the road and to get the attention of the first cab she saw.

Felicity’s thoughts had nothing to do with the torrential rain though, but more how she would get to the exit without looking for the man she had been so infatuated with before. If he was still there he would be sat at the bar and she would have to walk straight past him to leave. She was sure her mind would want her to search for that magnificently heavy and spongy body yet had no idea what she would do if she found him.

Not being able to stand hiding behind a door for the remainder of the night Felicity resolved to walk out. Shutting the door behind her, the slim and sexy dancer walked forward and tried to keep facing ahead. If she spotted her enigmatic man at the bar she would feel like feel like going over and confronting him and that was an act she was certainly not comfortable with in public.

She felt even more conspicuous as she walked toward the door. The bar was still packed with people though there was a clear path toward the door. As Felicity made her way in that direction her eyes instinctively darted to the right and toward the bar. There, sat in the middle with an empty stool to his right, was the man with his head bowed and glaring through his glass. He looked lonely, Felicity thought as she tried to keep walking. Unbeknownst to her however, her pace had slowly to little more than a crawl and then to nothing.

In the middle of the saloon she had stopped and remained staring at this curvy, irresistible hunk of man for whom she had no name. Felicity wanted to walk over and talk to him, to tell him he looked perfect and she wanted him. She wanted to, but more and more she was becoming aware that her being stationary was attracted the attention of several pairs of eyes. They may have been her lusty crowd wanting another look at her exquisite physique or pathetic pretty-boys wanting a crack at her, but she had no patience for them tonight. Any more time spent in the bar would attract more interest and talking to this man would only serve to draw more attention to her and her unconventional desires.

Felicity didn’t want the attention. The crowds around the stages she danced on were more than enough for that. She wanted this man, at least to talk to him, but she didn’t want the leery eyes and disapproving ignorant minds judging her. She wasn’t ready for that kind of attention. Not yet.

Bowing her head, Felicity pulled her gaze away from the man and turned to the door. Every bone in her body wished her to turn back and just talk to the man she found so tantalizing but she couldn’t manage it, not now, not in front of all these people.

Slowly she began to walk again with painful steps and a heavy heart. Each step took her closer to the door until she was stood next to it, so close she could hear the rain pounding at the ground outside. There Felicity hesitated for a second and turned her head halfway toward the bar. If she’d looked out of the very corner of her eye she would have seen him for a last time but she couldn’t bare it. Reaching out she pulled the door open to reveal the two men still guarding the entrance and the rain only stopped from battering them by a small overhang above. The rain was lashing, but it seemed more welcome than a crowd of burning eyes.

Clutching her jacket closer together at the neck, Felicity gave a short longing sigh that only she could hear before walking out into the dark, dreary alley. John twisted his head at that moment, catching only the merest glimpse of Felicity’s face as she disappeared behind the rapidly closing door. The expression on that face was not one of a contented seductress. It was a look John knew well as he wore it on many an occasion. It was sadness, it was loneliness.

TO BE CONTINUED IN NEXT POST

__________________I'm an open book, but you still need to turn the page to find what you want.

John lingered in staring at the door for a few moments, the image of her lonesome eyes hanging there in his mind like a pane of glass ready to fall and crack at the smallest knock. Turning back to his drink he took another sip and swilled it around his mouth. Something didn’t taste right this time. The amber liquid had come from the same bottle, it had been poured into the same glass, but something was different. John didn’t enjoy this mouthful and what was more he felt the every mouthful to come would be the same.

Souring the warming tone of the alcohol was the image of those forlorn eyes. Forlorn then when before they had been so lustrous and wanting. Something about that was distressing for John who had rested his glass on the bar and now ran his finger thoughtfully around the rim. He sat there in contemplation, realising that he no longer felt like drinking. Those eyes, it seemed, had left him with a sobering presence.

Pressing his right index finger against the front of the glass, John pushed it back across the bar until it chinked against the half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels. John slid his ample rear-end off the leatherette bar stool and landed on his feet with a thud. Grabbing his still-soaked trench coat off the floor where he had dropped it he slid one arm into a soggy sleeve before hearing a voice.

“Leaving already, John?” The morose voice came from behind the bar and John looked up to see Georgie the barman staring into a half-full bottle of Jack Daniels. The barman was clearly not used to seeing the Police Detective leave so early in the night, more accustomed to him drinking until he was almost unable to stand. John nodded and slipped his remaining arm into the second sleeve.

“Want me to brown-bag it for you?” Georgie’s eyes were still on the bottle as he already reached down under the bar for a brown paper bag that John could take his bottle away in. John took a moment to look at the bottle and contemplate whether or not to keep the remnants of this night of drinking. He’d bought the whole bottle, but he had no desire to drink the rest tonight or any other night.

“Keep it.” John called across the bar, attracting a stunned glance from the barman who had almost placed the bottle inside the bag. He hadn’t expected the answer and slowly removed the bottle and placed it back on the bar. Before Georgie could utter another word or snarky comment John stopped him in his tracks. “I don’t feel like it anymore, Georgie. Just give all your other fine customers a drink, I’m sure you’ll be able to find a couple.”

John stepped around the bar stool and walked toward the exit. Any other night he would have given a glance back to the bar, temped by another drink to make him even more paralytic. This wasn’t any other night though, and he didn’t turn his head so much as one degree from the door. Approaching fast he gripped the door handle and pulled it hard to reveal the hard rain outside. The neon pink glow from the nearby sign did nothing to lift the grim mood of the weather. Buttoning his coat to the top, John took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a brief moment. The emerald green eyes of the dancer were still there in all their loneliness, still there calling him.

With a reluctant snap John’s eyes opened and he walked out past the two doormen. They nodded toward him in acknowledgment but he was too occupied with the thought of those eyes to nod back. The rain lashed at his face and the trench coat that covered his body as he walked back down the alley with a slow and thoughtful pace. Each step felt heavy as though something were weighing him down. It was a sunken feeling in his gut that told him he’d let something pass him by, an opportunity that might have led to happiness. Of course it might not have, but how would he have known if he didn’t try?

Walking along the alley he felt the water seep into the bottom of his trouser legs again as he trudged through the puddles of rainwater. He longed to get home to his cramped apartment, knowing at least there he would be warm and alone, though thinking how much better it would be to have just one more person there with him. Perhaps if he had not been so cynical it might have been the dancer with the lustful emerald eyes.

John strolled out from the alley and stopped briefly. Looking to his left he saw nothing but the odd streetlight that lit only raindrops hitting the sidewalk. There were no people, only the parked cars of those that now inhabited the saloon. Turning his head to the right, John expected to see another picture of nothing. There were sporadic streetlights lighting the soaked sidewalk and parked cars waiting to be driven home by people hoping they wouldn’t be breathalysed. But as he was about to walk away to the left he heard something that halted him before he could move….breathing.

Stood just behind John, resting against the wall of the building across from the bar, was Felicity. Her eyes were closed tight and her breaths deep as if she was trying to calm herself. Staring at her without saying a word, John saw the rain trickle down her beautiful face but knew not all the water was from above. She had been crying, this he could tell instinctively. Soaking wet from head to toe her plan of catching a cab upon leaving had not been put into motion. Instead she had been overcome with the feeling on loneliness and couldn’t help but stay there in the rain and weep.

“Are…” John spoke one word that startled Felicity at first. Her eyes bolted open with the realisation she had been caught in such a vulnerable moment. This reaction in turn made John stumble over his words, he hadn’t wanted to alarm her, he had seen her drenched clothes and hair and felt more concern than perhaps he should have for a complete stranger. “Are you cold?”

Felicity stared back at this man, the man for whom she had no name but had felt so intensely about back in the bar. His presence in front of her was almost unbelievable, let alone that he had been considerate enough to pay her even the briefest of attention as he left the saloon. Now she had this man she wanted so much to speak to standing in front of her, she had no words to speak. All Felicity could muster was the slightest of nods.

“I….I don’t live too far away.” John immediately cringed at his words, knowing he sounded like a philandering middle-aged man. Pressing through the indignity of his first words he continued. “I mean, I can call you a cab there if you need…”

Looking through the rain at his wholly sincere yet pained expression, Felicity knew intuitively that he was a good man. There had been something about him that told her this from the moment she spotted him. It was as though he was an open book to her and that they shared a connection of some kind. She couldn’t help but cut off his words with the first thing that popped into her mind. “You were looking at me.”

John froze in mid-sentence, part thankful she had stopped him making a fool of himself even more and part terrified his stare had been so obvious. Her eyes now looked back into his eyes with some of the same emotion he had seen inside. With no idea what to say, John thought back to those couple of minutes where he had been intoxicated by her gaze. Now more than ever he knew she really had been looking at him with pure emotion. “You were looking at me too.”

“I know. I…couldn’t help it.” Felicity’s eyes showed the smallest hint of suddenly tearing up before she closed them and let her head drop to her chest. Every thought in her head was focused on how much she had struggled to contain her desires for a man like this; a man whose body was strong and powerful enough to protect her and yet soft and curvy enough to be comforting. To her, John was the embodiment of everything she had wanted by had been so utterly afraid to look for. And there he was, stood in front of her.

As her eyes were closed and the tears pushed through to fall down her face, Felicity felt a gentle touch on her chin. Opening her eyes she realised it was the delicate caress of John’s hand lifting her head back to where he could see her stunning features. She noticed he no longer wore his coat; in fact it was draped over his arm and now he beckoned her away from the wall.

“Come on, let’s get you warmed up.” John spoke softly and Felicity knew his words were filled with genuine concern. Emotion had taken away her words once more but looking into his eyes she nodded again. He took the coat from his arm and placed it over Felicity’s shoulders, sheltering her from the rain which now beat down on his suit. He didn’t care, now his only concern was getting this woman he somehow cared about to a safe, warm place.

__________________I'm an open book, but you still need to turn the page to find what you want.

I love the attention to detail--the setting and peripheral characters really danced before my eyes.

Yes ... exactly! Maybe one tiny hint for the already anticipated continuation of the story: Trust your initial descriptions and metaphors more! They're really good, create the atmosphere - they don't need doubling up with a further explanation. Give your reader's inner eye the time to relish the image evolving before then.

So - when can we expect the next chapter? We can never have too many good new BHM stories around here!

Thank you for your compliments and constructive criticism (in here and in rep messages), it truly means a lot that you guys like the story so much and want more.

I won't leave you hanging on without a comment on what I plan to do in regards to a next chapter. The issue I'm facing is that I didn't plan to write anything further with this story. I know the ending is open but I guess I wanted to leave something to the imagination. With the positive response, however, it's not out of the question that a second chapter or follow up story will happen.

At the moment I have seperate ideas in mind that I would like to build on before persuing that, but if I get inspiration for The Dancer and The Detective - Part 2 I will do my best to write it for you.

Thank you for your kind words once more.

__________________I'm an open book, but you still need to turn the page to find what you want.

What a great start, not only wonderfully phrased but with an eye to detail and very well fleshed out characters. I understand the concept of leaving something to the readers imagination, but with the characters soo well defined it producers an anti-climax. As you described John's first drink; the taste of the whiskey the warmth in his stomach the easing along his sides leaving off where you have is like dashing the glass from the readers lips. The characters are vividly set for wherever you might take them, be it a warm and cozy relationship, a torrid love affair, a rocky road for a cop and an exotic dancer or wherever your thoughts would run. I surely hope you return to this story and add to it, but whether you do or don't it's wonderfully descriptive and very nicely done
Thank you
Jim

[Author's Note: Here is the long awaited follow up to my first Dims story, and I sincerely apologise to you all for having to wait this long. I hope it's worthy the extended wait.]

The Dancer and The Detective: Part 2

By Rellis10

The rain had persisted all night, battering rooftops so audibly it stopped the inhabitants of Carson Place from sleeping. One couple lay awake reading under lamplight while another made raucous love that prevented sleep even further for their neighbours. A third couple, however, had just arrived at the building and were soaked to the bone. Felicity hid underneath the immense coat of the man that accompanied her; the large figure of Detective John Hawkins. As rain pounded down on his broad, barely covered shoulders the fabric of his cheap suit and shirt hugged his curves even closer. It was hard for Felicity to resist admiring the body of this man she barely knew.

Gone was the ingrained odour of alcohol outside Georgie’s Saloon, replaced by the scent of musty old brickwork. John pushed open the door and was greeted by no elevator and two flights of stairs to his cramped apartment. He held it open as Felicity hesitantly stepped forward into the lobby. The weight of rain impacting her shoulders was gone, as it was with John’s as he strode inside too. There he gently reached around her and removed the coat, holding it under his arm and into his side that became saturated even more with rain water.

Still silent, John’s hand cupped Felicity’s back and guided her toward the stairs. In unison they began to climb, an act that John normally despised but couldn’t care less about at that moment. An unspoken, inexplicable trust covered them as the detective led the dancer up one by one, their steps echoing as they went. Feeling the moistness of the rain seep through his trouser legs, John began to notice a chaffing as his thick, rippling and now damp thighs rubbed against each other. He ignored it and continued one step after another with this mysterious woman in toe.

Completing the first flight, the two mismatched figures glanced momentarily at each other and began the second. John’s breathing was already heavier but half way up his chest began to heave as he took in large lungful’s of air. Again Felicity looked in his direction but, shamelessly, saw past his struggling breathes and noticed only the curves of his chest bulging with every pant. Each step increased his need for air and his robust calves began to burn, even under the freezing fabric.

Finally they reached the third floor, though every board seemed remarkably creaky. John tried to avoid the offending floorboards but no matter where he stepped his weight set off a squeal. Felicity followed and looked around at the scenery. The walls were dull beige, except at the top in which case there were spots of dark brown that signified damp. The floorboards that John trod were a deep brown toward the sides but the middle had been worn down into a lighter shade. He continued to find every creaking board until he stopped in front of a door two in from the end of the corridor on the right side.

John stopped for breathe and began to fumble for his trouser pocket. After a few attempts he found it, welded by the rain into the rest of his trousers. Peeling it away he reached in and pulled out a set of keys. Finding the right one he extended it toward the door and twisted. With a not-so reassuring clunk the door swung open and revealed the apartment within.

“Home sweet home.” Spoke John with a tinge of sarcasm as he ushered Felicity through the door. Inside was a small apartment with worn out furniture but a homely appeal. It was cluttered with discarded clothes and trinkets which John began to hastily clean up to make the room more appealing. Felicity watched him move quickly to remove all items from the dusty couch that bore a similar hue to rest of the building. Once they were out of the way on a spare chair he beckoned Felicity to the sofa and she obliged, nervously taking a damp seat on the left side.

“Let’s try to find you something to dry off with.” A subconscious connection told Felicity that John was only there to help her so she nodded and watched as he walked behind her and the sofa and up a small corridor. She heard him cleaning again, and felt the coldness of the water in her jacket fighting the warmth of the room. Slowly she removed the heavy jacket to reveal her black t-shirt, clinging to her slim and beautiful figure. Droplets clung to her arms and gradually slid down to drip onto the sofa.

Allowing her mind to wander she thought about how amazing it had felt to have this man’s strong, protective arm around her, even through several layers of soaking clothing. All the way to the apartment, her eyes were fixed on his body sloshing to and fro inside his clinging suit, his substantial chest expanding and contracting and his powerful legs heaving his body forward.

“Here you go…” John’s voice startled Felicity who was in a world of her own. Her imagination had caused her to miss the detective’s approach with a soft, welcoming white towel.

“Could I use your bathroom?” She spoke, her words hiding her modesty as she needed to undress and dry off properly. John’s head dropped, but only in realisation that he had acted so quickly. Nodding, he extended the towel to the now standing Felicity and pointed her in the direction.

“It’s the first door down the corridor.” Felicity walked past John, not-so accidentally brushing his stomach with her arm as she did. The softness was wonderful she thought and then noticed that he was following her toward the corridor.

“I’ll just be in the bedroom. Make yourself at home….” Stumped by something, John stopped short and then tilted his head. Something confused him and a shy smile crept across his face for the first time. “That’s embarrassing…I brought you all the way here and I don’t even know your name.”

“It’s Felicity.” She spoke softly as their eyes met again.

“Well Felicity, I’m John.” A more pronounced smile lit up his face, as too it did with Felicity’s. She turned and made her way into the bathroom that was small but had everything that was required; a shower, wash basin, toilet, cabinet and enough room for even John. He followed her to that point and then continued into the bedroom at the end of the corridor and closed the door.

Inside, John stood at the base of a double bed. He had this bed not because two people were sleeping on it, but because he no longer felt comfortable on a single due to his size. The coffee-brown and cream sheets were crumpled but in place and the wardrobe door was open to reveal his range of, or rather lack of, suit jackets and shirts. He removed his jacket and placed it on the floor in a cold wet heap and revealed the off white shirt that was now almost transparent. Through the fabric his entire body was visible; his bulging belly, ample chest and erect nipples.

Removing his tie first, he undid the buttons of the shirt and opened it, feeling the warm air of the apartment on his chest. Struggling to get the sticky shirt off John freed it from his back and placed in on the floor alongside his jacket. With his top half naked, the warmth finally found its way into his skin, so far as the soft underneath of his love handles. Even then a furrow ploughed his brow and he muttered “What are you doing John? You don’t know this girl and you bring her back to your place?”

“Just call her a taxi and say goodnight.” John continued to mumble and removed his shoes and socks and released the belt that held up his trousers. Pulling it out of the loops with a satisfying swish, John placed the belt down on the accumulating pile of clothes and unbuttoned his fly. Unzipping them, he peeled down the legs down inch by soaked inch. Now all he was wearing was a clinging pair of black boxer shorts that hugged his not-inconsiderable package.

Sliding his hands down the inside of the shorts he removed them, revealing his entire glorious and utterly chilled body. His large belly hanged down over a cushion of fat than in turn drooped over his not-too enthusiastic member. His thighs brushed together as he turned toward a chest-of-drawers by the window that looked out on the street. From one of the drawers he removed a pair of navy blue shorts and socks before moving to a lower drawer from which he grabbed a large pair of elasticated grey sweat pants and a black t-shirt.

Looking around the room, John’s chest rippled with each movement until he found a dry yet wrinkled towel draped over a chair in the corner. Grabbing it he quickly ran it over his body; his short bedraggled hair first, then his chest and bulging belly, his strong yet flabby arms, tree trunk-like legs and finally his nether regions. Reasonably dry, he took the new pair of crisp, warm boxer shorts and slid them up his cellulite laden legs. Once his modesty was hidden, John heard a shuffle of footsteps from the bathroom and his mind returned to the mysterious yet alluring woman.

She was attractive, John thought to himself, and the connection they had seemed to share in the bar was incomprehensible. Still, however, he tried to see himself as a good Samaritan; giving her a safe place to warm up before sending her on her way. He was sure that was all it could be. With this resignation in his mind, he sighed and went about getting dressed again.

Almost silently, Felicity opened the door of the bathroom and peeked into the corridor. She was fully dressed in still damp clothing, having wanted to spend as little time as possible inconveniencing her host. Her chestnut hair was quite dry though as it tumbled down her back. Before closing the door she heard movement in the bedroom and instinctively looked to see the door ajar. With little noise, Felicity moved up to the door and peeped through the gap.

What she saw was John leaning over, grabbing the sweat pants off the bed. Her gorgeous green eyes stared helplessly at his rear; the soft, tactile buttocks that swept so wonderfully into his thick flabby thighs. As he remained bent over, her eyes drifted up to his chest and belly that began to hang down, accentuating their size and making Felicity wish she was buried underneath his immense weight. Her heart began to flutter at the thought of digging her fingers into that spectacular flesh. She was entranced by the majesty of his body but this was interrupted when a gust through the bathroom window pushed the door closed behind her, alerting John.

Moving back from the door, Felicity hid her prying gaze just in time. Pressed against the wall she could feel her heart beating faster and the images of John’s perfect curves coursing through her mind. It was all she could do resist rushing into that room and groping every inch of him.

“Fe…Felicity? Is that you?” John called, having heard the door shut behind her, unsure if he’d remembered her name correctly.

“Y…Yes.” Her voice trembled too as she waited to see if he had actually seen her. Spying would perhaps not have been the best way to announce her attraction.

There was an uneasy silence as John tried to think of what to say. Felicity kept herself pressed into the wall, hiding through uncharacteristic nerves. Tension rose until the detective finally found some words. “Like I said, make yourself at home. There’s a cab number on the table by the window if you want to make the call yourself.”

Finally Felicity pulled away from the wall and into the middle of the corridor, forcing her eyes to stay away from the gap in the door. “Ok… thank you.”

Slowly she walked down the corridor and back to the lounge while John lingered, staring at the door for just a moment. Her voice had been a whisper, she was clearly unsure of how to react to the situation. The robust, indeed rotund, man couldn’t help feeling that he had made her uncomfortable by bringing her here. He had been too insistent, she had been vulnerable.

Slipping his left leg into the sweat pants John was glad for the warmth, or rather something that wasn’t cold. The baggy pants, even for his weight, accentuated the proportions of his legs as he slipped the right leg in and snapped the elasticated waist into place. Taking a seat on the end of his bed, the mattress squealed and sagged until it became a valley around him. He picked up the t-shirt and slid it over his head, pushing his heavy arms through the sleeves until it fell over his lightly haired belly.

Feeling more comfortable he reached around to find the socks but couldn’t feel them. Blindly he grabbed with pudgy fingers but couldn’t find them down his side. He looked confused for a moment and then, as if a light had flashed on above his head, he pushed his hand underneath his right buttock and pulled hard. Soon he retrieved two warm, squashed socks from underneath his rear and put them on while hearing a quiet voice from the lounge. Felicity must have been calling the cab, he thought, and gave a slight smile that her ordeal would be over and she’d be home soon.

Pushing himself up from the bed, the mattress slowly returning to its previous shape, John walked toward the bedroom door. He’d deal with the pile of soaked clothes later, but now he needed to check on his guest. Reaching the door he found it ajar and raised an eyebrow before looking back to where he had been dressing. Had she seen him? He thought for a moment then shrugged it off and opened the door, walking down the corridor and into the lounge.

At the end of the corridor he stared into the room and found Felicity still at the window by the phone. She gazed out at the torrents of rain, mind adrift like a boat on choppy waters. In the darkness she saw what her mind remembered of earlier that night; the shady lights, so many eyes staring back, one man striking out amidst the crowd. She blinked, and there in the reflection was that same man, standing at the back of the room.

“I called a cab. They said it might take a while, it’s a busy night.” She looked back over her shoulder and caught John in the corner of her eye. He nodded in acknowledgement, knowing the rain would mean an abundance of people searching for dry ways to get home.

“Sounds like you have a bit of a wait. Best get comfortable.” John suggested matter-of-factly and approached his sofa. Dropping onto the canvas and springs, the seat gave an almighty groan as his rolls of fat plunged in and came to rest. Felicity would have been lying if she said she wasn’t watching every ripple through that irresistibly thin t-shirt.

Sliding himself into the left-most corner of the three-seater, though taking up perhaps one and a half, he beckoned Felicity to take a seat again. Tired and still chilled to the bone, she cautiously moved over to the sofa and took a seat at the other side, though if she’d been more confident she would have nestled herself into John’s side.

As both of them waited in silence ideas and questions swirled around their minds. Neither knew if they should say anything or let that night drift by, after all they were both strangers. But, with the prospect of many minutes of uncomfortable silence, John took a deep breath and summoned up something, anything, that could be considered small-talk. “So, how did you end up working at Georgie’s?”

“One of the few things I’ve ever had going for me is my looks, so I used them.” Felicity answered but her words were begrudging. As she pushed a lock of hair out of her face John saw the resentment for what she felt she had to do to make a living. “I move around a lot, work dried up so I found myself in Bison Harbour. I spotted his add, saw what he was paying and the rest is history.”

“I’m sure you’ve got a lot more going for you than you think.” Replied John intuitively, hoping this was what Felicity wanted to hear. Her reaction was a shy, retiring smile that she tried to hide. There seemed so much more beneath the surface of this stunning woman, thought John, so much he would want to find out.

It pained him to see her exhibiting herself and believing it was the only option. It was especially hard to see her in a hell hole like Georgie’s. He frequented the place because nobody bothered him, the booze was cheap and it gave him the satisfying feeling of watching the seedy underside of civilisation. Georgie was just the tip of the iceberg, with his leery eyes and unsettling demeanour. John’s instincts told him the bar patron was no good. “He’s a creep, you know?”

The look on Felicity’s face was that of helpless knowing. Until then she had been leant forward but with this question she finally slumped back. “He pays money up front, decent money too. I can’t turn it down.”

Her eyes drifted around the room, searching for a talking point to distract from her situation. There wasn’t much to inspire conversation, no photos or mementos of past memories. Looking elsewhere, she realised that he knew, and had seen vividly, what she did for a living and she knew very little about him. “What do you do?”

“I’m a Detective.” John replied and watched as Felicity’s eyebrows rose at the word.

“A cop?” As normal as this job was it still held an air of authority and strictness. Felicity was surprised by what she thought of as the activity of the job for a man his size, but it was at odds with the more suitable stereotype of a policeman with a frosted donut in his mouth. Not wanting to assume either, she settled with “That must be interesting.”

John gave a jaded grin, one that said he yearned for something interesting to happen in his life. Perhaps that moment would be very soon. “Not as much as you’d think; criminals don’t get too creative around these parts.”

Felicity returned the smile, having seen more than enough of Bison Harbours underbelly to know it was exactly the same as every other city she’d lived in. Every place she performed in was a carbon copy of the one before, with lustful men driven by hormones before brains and all manner of sordid goings on. The more things changed, the more they stayed the same.

Silence returned as both of them thought about the events of that night. What happened in the bar was an unexplainable experience, a meeting of eyes and a connection neither could comprehend. She wanted him from the very first moment he caught her eye and he wanted her just as much. Neither knew how the other felt, only the vague knowledge that something had brought them together. This thing was a mystery to John and he needed to know what had brought this woman into his life. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure…” replied Felicity to the ambiguous question, unsure what to expect but knowing it would be something larger than jobs and menial chit chat.

“In the bar, why were you looking at me?” Before Felicity could even begin to answer the question, John’s nerves forced him to try and expand on it, even talk himself out of believing she was really staring at him. “I mean, there were so many other guys there but you were…”

Seeing the nerves on John’s face, Felicity felt an instinctive need to reassure him. Subconsciously her hand drifted across the couch, seeking the feeling of another. Brushing over his fingers, hers gripped the back of his hand softly. Feeling that clasp, John stopped in mid-sentence and glanced at Felicity as she spoke. “I don’t like guys like them, and there was just something about you that made me want to keep staring.”

Her hand squeezed tighter but his pulled back fearfully, his eyes diverting too. “Like…what?”

“I’ve…” The words didn’t reach her mouth complete, her brain blocking the impulse to tell him what her heart screamed. Does she confess her deepest desire? Her words continued to stutter but John, even in his confusion, waited patiently. Finally she managed to find some words. “I’ve never been able to tell anyone before.”

Seeing her uncomfortable fidgeting, John’s hand betrayed him and reached out again. His thick, warm fingers lapped over hers and his eyes returned, looking up. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

Felicity took a deep breath, calming her nerves. Her desires bubbled to the surface, begging to be released. Those words pushed up her throat that tried its best to keep them down and failed. “I don’t like normal men. I like… bigger guys. I like guys like you.”

It sounded awkward, choked, but sincere. Her hand slid under his and up his arm, caressing the alluring flesh. She leant in even more but his stare was still hard and searching for sense. Felicity flinched painfully. “I’ve said something wrong, haven’t I?”

“No, I’ve just never heard anyone say that before. My ex-wife divorced me because of all this…” John places his hand on the expanse of rolling plumpness around his waist. Memories of his distance and her dwindling interest in his body simmered to the surface. His wife lost the man she married, he lost somebody to love him no matter what. “… Because I wasn’t the man she knew before.”

“She was wrong…” Words merely a whisper, Felicity struggled to keep her urges chained within. Her fingers gripped harder around his arm, the other nestling on his belly. His body melted under her touch and she felt like she could melt into him. It felt so much better than she could imagine. “…you’re even more of a man.”

The pull was too much; the feeling of her hand sinking into his body gave her shivers all over. She leant even further in, their eyes getting closer until they could see into each other’s souls. John knew now that her attraction was real, he wasn’t sure if he understood it but he could accept it. As she got closer, her hand pushed down into his belly and her perfect figure slid over his, their two black-attired torsos absorbing into one.

Letting himself go in the moment, John let his hand drift free and felt it wrap around Felicity’s back, nestling just above her enticing rear. He pulled her closer, their faces inches apart. Inches became nothing, her scent intoxicated him and he closed his eyes. She closed hers and angled her head to the left. They could feel each other’s breath on their lips when…

BEEEEP

A startling car horn blared through the window, pulling Felicity back and snapping both their eyes open. The moment was lost as John pushed himself up slightly and glared at the rain spattered pane. As if to cement the interruption the horn blasted out once more.

BEEEEEEEEP

“…the taxi?” Mumbled John knowingly, both of them wincing at the perfect timing. They sat silent for a moment, dwelling on what had just happened, but quickly Felicity stood and moved to the window. John watched as she stared out at the blurred yellow light through the pouring rain.

“I should go.” She said, hastily turning away from the window and grabbing her still soaked jacket from the floor. Her mind, shocked into question, wondered if she’d done the right thing. Had she gone too far? Been too eager, too desperate even, to express her desires? Panicked and unsure, she looked for escape.

John got to his feet as Felicity edged toward the door. They’d only just met and he didn’t know what to think but he knew he didn’t want that moment to end so abruptly. “You don’t have to.”

In her rush, Felicity glanced at the window and then back at John. She needed time to think about what had happened, how close she’d come to giving herself to this man. No matter what she thought of though, she couldn’t turn away from this man completely. “I do… but call me.”

She approached the door and pulled it open with a click. John tried to approach and stop her but she was already half way out. Confused and overwhelmed, he realised he had no number to call her on. Desperately he called out “Call you?”

She stopped in the doorway, turning to gain one more look at his beautiful tantalizing form. She could have leapt forward and taken him right there; ripping his t-shirt from the back she’d love to dig her fingers into. The taxi was waiting though, and that time was gone. “Goodbye John.”

“Felicity, wait.” John cried out but she had already turned the corner. He moved, uncharacteristically quickly, to the door and swung around the doorframe but she was gone. Hearing the footsteps rushing down the stairs, John knew he couldn’t catch her even if he tried.

His eyes lingered on the stairs for a moment, not even able to catch her shadow. Finally he resolved to move back inside his apartment, shutting the door with another clunk. Heavy, his steps were laboured as if he’d felt a terrible loss and he made his way over to the window. Through the rain he saw the blurry glow of the headlights and a figure run out in front of them. It was Felicity rushing to get out of the rain and into the safety of the taxi. “You stupid man, why didn’t you go after her?”

Letting out a loud sign, John looked down at his belly that this woman was so infatuated with and pawed it longingly with his hand. It was so fleeting, but he already missed the contact she’d given him.

Still staring down, he noticed the small notepad by the phone was left at a jaunty angle and jabbed it back into place. Hearing the engine of the taxi hum away, his eyes looked down the pad until they reached a number in the middle of the page, a phone number that was very distinctively not in his handwriting.

“Call me?” John uttered as he lifted his head and watched the yellow blur move off into the distance. He gave a smile, knowing that even though she was gone he’d have a second chance soon.

__________________I'm an open book, but you still need to turn the page to find what you want.